On deck of the ship, Primo was staring at the hilly coast just south of their navigation route.
“This Euxine Sea is so different compared to the Mediterranean,” said Primo turning toward Father Leontio.
“I know… It is colloquially also called the Black Sea,” Father Leontio replied. “And you see that land over there?”
“Yes… I see that mountainous coast… What about it?” Primo asked.
“According to Roman tradition, that’s where our people are from…”
“You mean, us Latins?”
“Us Venetians, to be precise,” Father Leontio explained. “In particular people of Patavium, but it refers to all people from the ancient Venetia Regio.”
“What is that land called?”
“At the time it was called Paphlagonia, but we are talking about a long time ago, way before the Roman Empire,” Father Leontio continued. “Now, I don’t know, it’s just the northern coast of Anatolia.”
“So, what happened exactly?” Primo was very curious.
“Well, according to Greek mythology the inhabitants of this coast were called Enetoi, and they fought together with the Trojans against the Greeks.”
“So are these Enetoi our ancestors?” Primo was more and more interested.
“According to Roman poets, yes. After the fall of Troy, the Trojan general Antenor led the Enetoi up the Adriatic. They then navigated up the Brint River, and founded Patavium.”
“That is amazing! I did not know we came from here!” Primo exclaimed.
“That’s just mythology, Primo!” Father Leontio immediately stifled Primo’s enthusiasm. “If it actually happened, we are talking about many centuries even before the Roman Empire. Many things have happened since then.”
“So, where we are going now, this Trebizond, is this the capital of what used to be Paphlagonia?”
“No… it’s much farther than that!” Father Leontio explained. “It truly is an intersection of different cultures. I am not even sure how it is to be defined… Armenian? Persian? Byzantine? We shall see… There is a lot I need to learn as well.”
Primo had no more questions, for the moment, and he kept staring at the coastline as the ship kept on navigating east. He was anticipating arriving in a land never seen before, and that apparently not even Byzantium knew much about. It was indeed part of the Byzantine Empire, but just as much as Heraclia and Grado were. So far away, and so forgotten by the epicenter of the Empire. The main trade routes to Persia went through Syria, and Trebizond was nothing more than the shadow of its past glory. During the Roman Empire, it used to be the true gateway to the Silk Road. Primo kept thinking about the parallels to his homeland. Even his very own Altinum was once a flourishing city connecting Mediterranean trade with Northern Europe. Now instead, Ravenna had been the queen of the Adriatic for several decades, if not centuries. But the tide of time was turning again, and Venetia was rising once again. It was up to merchants like Primo and Polo to make Venetia great again. That is why Primo was traveling to the opposite end of the Mediterranean trade routes. Being the first to reach into new markets could mean tremendous fortunes for him and his community back in the lagoon.
Father Leontio did not share the same commercial interests, but as a cultured man of faith, he was also looking forward to the destination for his own reasons. He interrupted Primo’s thoughts to share his own considerations.
“You know, Primo, I cannot wait to land there…”
“How is that, is there something special for you in Trebizond?” Primo replied.
“Well, there is the Sumela monastery, built into the side of a rocky wall.” Father Leontio continued.
“I knew you must have had some pilgrimage purposes in this trip!”
“Oh, Primo! This will be a special pilgrimage,” Father Leontio was excited. “The monastery was founded by two monks from Athens, but it is said to have an icon of the Virgin Mary painted by the Evangelist Luke himself!”
“Sounds fascinating…” Primo replied. “If Polo was here, he would ask how much for the icon!”
They both started laughing, both aware that this was most likely true.
After a couple more days of navigation, Primo and Father Leontio arrived in Trebizond. As the ship docked, Primo noticed that a small crowd formed around the ship. It was as if the whole town came to greet them, drawn to the newcomers by curiosity. Primo remembered when he first docked in Constantinople they were greeted by indifference, as the capital was used to receiving visitors from all corners of the Empire. But Trebizond was a provincial town, long forgotten by main commercial routes, and its people were eager to welcome news and goods from the capital.
Primo and Father Leontio were looking at the crowd, trying to find the town representative. Sure enough, from behind, a middle-aged man came forward.
“Good afternoon fellow travelers! My name is Ari, and I am the Tribune of Trebizond! I take it, by looking at your ship, that you are arriving from Constantinople!”
“Hello Ari, my name is Primo, and I come as a representative of the co-emperor Justinian II. This is Father Leontio, who is accompanying me as translator.”
“Oh, you brought with you an Armenian translator?”
“No, Tribune Ari…” Father Leontio corrected. “I translate Greek, but by now Primo does not need my translation anymore. He is fluent.”
“Oh, but if you used to need a translator, Greek must not be your native tongue!” Tribune Ari asked Primo. “You must originate from somewhere even more exotic!”
“That is correct, Ari, my native tongue is Latin,” Primo answered. “I come from the Adriatic Sea, the very north of it.”
“My goodness! That is quite far! Welcome to Trebizond!” Tribune Ari was very excited to have a distant traveler as a guest. “Come with me! Your sailors would have to sleep onboard, but you two are most welcome to stay at my house.”
“Thank you, that is very kind of you,” Father Leontio added.
“You see, occasionally we see a military ship arriving from Constantinople.” Tribune Ari continued. “But we rarely see merchant ships venturing all the way to our port…I take it you are a merchant. Am I right, Primo?”
Tribune Ari looked deep into Primo’s eyes and smiled. Primo sensed that Ari might be more of a trader than a military man himself.
“Yes, Ari, I am definitely a merchant and I am eager to explore this land.”
As they were conversing, they walked through the small town’s market. It was nothing compared to Constantinople, but it was still a lot more than what Rivo Alto had to offer.
“Well, Primo, as you can tell, we do not really have much to offer as a market… we have been a dead end for some time now as far as trade routes goes. We mostly engage in small trade with the northern shores of the Euxine Sea.”
“Hopefully that will change very soon!” Primo replied.
“What do you mean?” Ari asked.
“Our primary goal is to reopen a trade route to Persia and the Far East, passing through Trebizond, of course.”
“Oh, but then you would need to go through Armenia! There is no other way around it.”
“I know, but I don’t see a problem with that,” Primo added. “The old Syrian route has been disrupted by the Arab conquest, so we do not really have much of a choice.”
“Yes, but you are aware that Armenia is now an emirate of the Arabic Empire, right?” Tribune Ari explained.
“We have been updated on the political situation of the lands between Byzantium and Persia. However, it is my understanding that it is an autonomous principality. That is, correct me if I am wrong, they pay a tribute to the Arabs, but other than that they do whatever they want. Am I right?”
“More or less, yes… you are absolutely correct,” Tribune Ari confirmed. “There are some Armenian merchants that come to Trebizond. I can put you in con
tact with them in case you want to travel there and secure a safe commercial passage for future expeditions.”
“That would be perfect!” Primo replied.
“Armenia is not far at all. It is just behind those hills. In fact, most people here are Armenian. You hear more Armenian being spoken than Greek!”
As they are walking through the market, Primo noticed a beautiful woman surrounded by a small crowd. While a man was entertaining the crowd, explaining in Armenian what was happening, the young woman was drinking a potion and giving a sip of the same potion to a rabbit in a cage next to her. The crowd was in awe as they noticed the rabbit falling onto its side and dying. Primo stopped to observe. He had not seen anything like this, not even in Constantinople.
“Ari, what is she doing?” Primo asked.
“She is a Mithridatic witch…”
“A Mithri… what?”
“She is a witch!”
“I understood that part, but what does she do?”
“She is immune to all sorts of poisons.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Oh, believe it! There is no trick. I am not joking. If you drink what she just had, you would collapse and die like that poor rabbit over there.”
“How can this be possible?” Primo asked.
“You see, Primo, a few centuries ago we had a powerful king over here. This is before the Roman Empire conquered the shores of this sea. His name was Mithridates.”
“Oh, I have heard of him!” Father Leontio exclaimed.
“Good! So, you see, Primo, Mithridates’ father was assassinated due to poisoning at a banquet. It happened when he least expected, during a feast!”
“I am following…” Primo said.
“So Mithridates was very concerned that his father’s enemies would do the same with him,” Ari continued.
“I would imagine.”
“And so he found a way to be immune to all known poisons!”
“That’s what I don’t understand. How is that possible?” Primo asked.
“You see, King Mithridates decided to ingest on a daily basis a small portion of several different types of poisons.”
“So that would make him sick, but not kill him?”
“Precisely, but that’s not all!”
“What else then?”
“Mithridates body built an immunity to all these poisons. This way, if someone tried to kill him with a large potion of poisons, his body would react and survive!”
“Is that really possible?”
“It sure is! That woman over there, she ingested something that would kill in an instant the strongest of men.”
“I am intrigued… I must meet that woman! I want to possess that power as well!”
“Primo, can’t we do this later?” Father Leontio interrupted. “Let’s first find our accommodations and have something for supper.”
“Good idea, Father Leontio!” Ari replied. “Don’t worry, Primo, she won’t go anywhere. In fact, if she goes anywhere it will be back to Armenia where she is from! Ha, ha! Perhaps she can be your travel companion and teach you all her tricks! Heh, heh, heh.”
The three walked toward Ari’s house, but Primo could not help it and as he was walking, he turned around to take a second look at the young witch. She was now staring back at him with her deep brown eyes.
Chapter 30
THE MITHRIDATIC WITCH
It was the middle of a hot summer afternoon in Heraclia. Aurelia was enjoying the sea breeze and the shade provided by the east side of her house. She was chatting with her daughter Clelia who had recently turned ten years old. Aurelia’s five-year old son Manlio was napping inside when Saverio came by to visit.
“Hello Aurelia!”
“Hi Saverio!”
“Three ships are approaching port! My son Sabino is finally returning, and so is Polo, of course! I can already spot them from a distance.”
Aurelia was relieved, but she did not want to show it. She had not seen her husband since the previous fall, and she was not pleased about it. Polo had first been busy rebuilding Rivo Alto and Olivolo, then he had to prepare for Ravenna’s attack, and finally he took a long trip to Alexandria to sell Bavarian prisoners.
“Come on, Clelia, let’s go greet your absent father…” Aurelia said to her daughter and they all headed toward port.
By the time Saverio, Aurelia and Clelia arrived, the ships were already docking. The sailors disembarked as fast as possible as they were eager to touch their homeland.
Aurelia spotted Polo and she stared at him. She did not say hello. She did not want to seem upset, but she was not happy either. Polo disembarked and as he approached Aurelia, he hugged her and then his daughter Clelia.
“Hello, wife!”
Aurelia was still cold toward Polo, but she was not frowning. She was relieved to know he was safe, but she was still not happy about his excessively long absence.
“Do I know you?” Aurelia uttered sarcastically.
“I am sorry, Aurelia… this has been a crazy year…” Polo replied apologetic. “But we are going to get rich even beyond my imagination!”
“Beyond your imagination? I find it hard to believe…”
“Aurelia, we have the possibility of replacing Ravenna as the rulers of the Adriatic…”
“You seem to forget you are under the Byzantine Empire… they won’t let you do that.”
“But that’s the point!” Polo immediately replied, eager to update Aurelia with all the political developments. “Byzantium is retreating, and there is a power vacuum!”
“And Ravenna is just going to let you do that…” asked a still unconvinced Aurelia.
“We held our ground militarily against Ravenna, haven’t we?” Polo asked rhetorically, as he had already been briefed while provisioning in Istria. “Besides, it’s not about military might, it’s about commercial force!”
“You just had a couple of fortunate seasons, Polo… Ravenna has been trading up and down the Adriatic since ever!”
“I know, Aurelia, but we have an advantage. We have the river trade behind us, and they have nothing. This allows me to go beyond trading salt. We can tap into the slave trade, and that’s where the real fortune is to be made!”
“Sounds fascinating,” Aurelia was in no mood to argue. “Now, let’s go home. You haven’t seen your son in almost a year. Manlio is almost six now and he is starting to forget he has a father…”
As they were walking toward their dwelling, Polo decided to touch on a delicate subject. When not traveling, he had been living in two places: Heraclia and Rivo Alto. For too long he juggled two lives and two families. This duplicitous situation, however, was only in part due to the two women in Polo’s life. Aside from Aurelia and Marcia, Polo had a foot in Heraclia and a foot in Rivo Alto for commercial and political reasons. Heraclia was the capital, the Byzantine outpost in the North Adriatic. As Duke of Venetia, he had to reside there, of course. But Heraclia also represented the past, the vassalage to a distant empire, and most importantly the vulnerability to the sea. In Heraclia, they were exposed to potential maritime threats that may come about now that Venetians were sticking their neck out in the Mediterranean. Polo had been stirring trouble with Ravenna, and he did not believe his family was safe in Heraclia. Rivo Alto, on the other hand, was a unique place. Being in the center of the lagoon, it was like being surrounded by a moat a couple of miles wide in each direction. With minimal defense, the lagoon was inexpugnable from land or from sea. This is why Primo and Polo chose nearby Olivolo to build the shipyard. This is where they chose to keep their trading emporium, and this is why he now wanted to move Aurelia and the children to the safety of the lagoon.
“Any news from Rivo Alto?” Polo asked, attempting to casually introduce the subject.
“As you already heard, Marcello managed to fend off
the Ravenna attack…” Aurelia replied.
“I know! I am telling you Aurelia, we must move to Rivo Alto as well,” Polo continued. “It will be much safer!”
“But Heraclia is the capital of the Duchy!” Aurelia objected, also a bit uneasy about abandoning what had been her home for a decade.
“Who cares?” Polo insisted. “And by the way, the capital is whereever the Duke moves with his wife and children!”
“I don’t know Polo. Heraclia has always been the main village…”
“That’s because there was a Byzantine Tribune stationed here, with all the soldiers. Because there was Opterg up river. Now Opterg is gone, and the lagoon is better positioned to trade with more rivers…”
“I know, I know… the Brint, the Athesis, the Sile…” Aurelia interrupted, annoyed.
“I am telling you, it is growing,” Polo asserted. “It’s not just a swampy gnat infested marshland…”
“It’s not?” Aurelia looked at Polo with a dubious smile.
“Well… it still is, but there are many more people now. A lot more dwellings… It’s a town!”
“And where would we live there?” Now Aurelia finally poked the touchy matter.
“I have a house there…” Polo sheepishly replied.
“Polo… I am already upset you spent all winter with her… you are asking too much now!”
“But it’s about safety. I am telling you, Aurelia… Rivo Alto is much better protected. We are vulnerable here in Heraclia!”
“Sure, it’s about safety…” An unconvinced Aurelia dismissed Polo.
“Rivo Alto will be the capital of Venetia!” Polo made one final attempt before entering their dwelling.
Polo finally arrived home just when Manlio was waking up. Polo went toward his son to hug him. Soon after Polo and his family were having supper. It would be their last meal together. They were laughing around the dinner table, as Polo entertained his children with unimaginable stories about his adventures. They had missed him, and he had missed them. Being a summer evening, it was warm and sunset came very late. They were fortunate to spend long hours enjoying each other’s company. At least one last time, after several months of paternal absence, Clelia and little Manlio could be delighted by their father’s warmth and love. They were blessed to go to sleep that night with a smile on their face, and a kiss on their forehead from the man they longed for every single day he was away.
Venetians Page 38
